


Paintings and Pinings

by archibaldcurothers



Category: Chris Evans (actor) - Fandom, Chris Evans - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, F/M, RPF, Reader-Insert, forgive me Father for I have sinned, real person fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 17:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20157577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archibaldcurothers/pseuds/archibaldcurothers
Summary: This is a crack!fic. Like, for real.You're very good friend, Chris Evans, has brought you to yet another political event. While he's off getting to know the modern-day aristocracy, you find yourself admiring a painting and joined by a charming (but mysterious) stranger. He says he goes by Red, and you can feel a pull to him. When Chris realizes this, he's none too happy.





	Paintings and Pinings

**Author's Note:**

> This is just. I can't justify it. I have been going through a simultaneous Chris Evans AND Raymond Reddington phase, and so I have combined the two into this unholy concoction; an amalgamation of Real Person and completely unrelated fictional character who has no ties to the Real Person. Who is the target audience for this? Me. It's me. I cannot fathom that the Venn diagram of "ho for Chris Evans" and "thirsty for Raymond Reddington" has any overlap besides myself. But, dear god, if there is anyone else that's into this, please let me know.

Another day, another awkward glitzy event with your friend, Chris. “With” was a strong word. Certainly, he brought you along, but, inevitably, you would end up on your own as he rubbed elbows with the other elites. After each event, you told yourself you wouldn’t come to another. It was too stressful and you always left feeling dejected, but then the next one would roll around and Chris, with his dazzling smile and transfixing blue eyes, would ask you to accompany him and you lost all reason, agreeing immediately. Granted, this was largely due to your feelings for him. You had become good friends by a chance encounter over a year ago, but you secretly longed for a closer bond. You knew it was impossible though. Chris was a bonafide A-list celebrity, he could have literally any woman he wanted - actresses, models, women who are stunning and influential and, well, in his league. You knew you didn’t fit the bill, but your friendship was strong, enviable even, and you had learned to be content with that. Or, at least, to try and convince yourself you were content with it. With each fundraiser he invited you to, a part of you hoped that this would be the time he’d look at you a little differently, and maybe, just maybe, reciprocate your affections.

You let out a sigh as you stared blankly at the oil painting on the wall. Chris had gone off to network with the politicians in attendance some time ago. His foray into the political arena had sharply increased the number of events you were invited to, but done nothing to increase the odds he’d see you differently. Knowing nobody else in attendance, you took comfort in the venue being an art museum. At least you had an excuse to stare at something, appearing contemplative and cultured, rather than how you really felt - uncomfortable, anxious, and, honestly, kind of pissed.

“Such a bleak painting, isn’t it?”

You looked to the man who had appeared by your side. He was intently examining the painting with ardent admiration. You weren’t sure if his question had been rhetorical or not. He was an older man, but not old; wearing an expensive suit with an even more expensive watch. He seemed to be a study in “not quites”. Not short, but not exactly tall either, not thin, but not fat, not traditionally attractive, but certainly not unpleasant to look at.

He must have felt you staring at him, because he turned to look at you, a smile on his genial face. “I’ve always been such a fan of Homer, but this one is perhaps my favorite.”

“Oh? Why is that?” you inquired.

He took a small step closer to you and directed your attention back to the painting. “It’s obvious the man is in distress. Adrift in shark-infested waters with no mast, no rudders…truly a plight no man would envy. But…,” he pointed to the upper left corner of the painting where the faint detail of a ship in the distance can be made out, “there is still hope.”

You smiled to yourself. “I hadn’t even noticed that ship, it makes me feel a bit better for the poor man.”

Your new companion turned to look at you, “Yes, it wasn’t in the original version, but upon receiving it back from an exhibition, Homer added in some more details, the most important, in my opinion, being that ship. A sign that, no matter how terrible a situation might seem, there is still hope to be had.”

“And how is it that you know so much about this painting, Mister…”

“Ah please, no need for formalities. My name is Raymond, but my friends call me ‘Red’.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you replied.

He smiled warmly, looking into your eyes with intensity as he remarked. “How befitting. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

You could feel yourself blushing and averted your gaze. His stare…it felt intimate, almost indecent for being in public. You cleared your throat as you tried to think of something to say. “You must be quite the connoisseur to know so much about this painting off the cuff.”

He glanced at the painting and then back to you, remarking, “Yes, I’m a lover of beauty.”

You snuck a glance to see him staring admirably at you, giving you a smirk. Feeling a little cocky, you faced him. “A connoisseur with a silver tongue. You’re dangerous, Red.”

He reached over to gently tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand lingered by your cheek, brushing it gently with his thumb as he murmured, “My dear, you have no idea.”

As if by magic, Chris was suddenly by your side, his hand placed on the small of your back, asking, “Care to introduce me to your friend?”

Caught off guard, you stammered incoherently for a moment before finally managing to get out, “Chris, this is Raymond. Raymond, Chris.”

Red smiled at the young actor and proclaimed, “Oh yes, I’m quite familiar with Mr. Evans. Setting aside the script of Hollywood for that of D.C.? An interesting transition, to be sure.”

The mockery in Red’s tone was not lost on Chris. He simply smiled at him and asked, “And what do you do, exactly, mister-“

“Oh please, call me ‘Red’. As for my endeavors, well, I work best in the shadows, so perhaps I shouldn’t out myself.”

“You’re a lobbyist?” Chris retorted.

Red let out a deep laugh. “Oh good heavens no! What kind of man do you take me for?” He chuckled. “No, I’m a middleman for various high-profile individuals who value their anonymity.”

“Sounds shady.”

“It does, doesn’t it!” Red laughed.

Wishing to diffuse whatever pissing contest was taking place between the two men, you chimed in, “Red was telling me about the history behind this painting.” You turned to Red. “Do you sell art, perhaps?”

“On occasion,” he replied, smiling warmly at you.

You felt Chris’s hand grip your waist and ever-so-slightly pull you closer to himself. “Well, I hate to end the history lesson prematurely, but I wanted to to introduce (Y/N) to Representative Ocasio-Cortez, so if you’ll excuse us…”

Red nodded in acquiescence, and then looked to you. “It was my pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).” He took your hand, lifting it up to press a chaste kiss to the back of it.  
“Likewise, Red,” you replied breathlessly.

As Chris escorted you away, you glanced over your shoulder to see Red still watching you. When your eyes met he smiled slyly, tipping his hat.

In a hushed tone, Chris tells you, “Stay away from that guy.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t like him”

“So? I do.”

He abruptly stopped walking, and looked down at you with concern. “You do?”

“Yeah.” You looked up at him. “Why, is that a problem?”

“I mean, it’s not- I just think he’s, like, into you…,” his voice trailed off.

“And?”

He looked stunned at your reply. “Are you serious? You’re seriously telling me that you’re into him?”

“I didn’t say that, I’m just wondering why it’s any concern of yours.”

You didn’t usually speak so harshly to Chris, but you were annoyed that he felt like he had any say over who you found attractive. You kept quiet about his romantic choices, only speaking up if he asked your opinion, and even then you tried not to be too harsh. So who was he to think he had any right to tell you who you could or couldn’t see or be attracted to.

In annoyance you asked, “You’re not actually taking me to be introduced to AOC, are you?”

“Well, I mean, I can.”

You glared at him. “So you just made that up; you just wanted to get me away from the one person who was actually talking to me.”

“C’mon, it’s not like that.”

“Chris, all I know is that whenever I come with you to these things you always go off on your own, leaving me behind.” You could feel your face getting hot as your anger bubbled up within you. “I don’t even know why you bother bringing me, let alone why I agree to come, but the least you could do is let me talk to the one person who has shown even an iota of interest in me.” You turned on your heel and headed back the way you had come, back towards Red.

When you got back to the painting, he was gone. You hadn’t really expected him to still be there, but even so, you were let down. You couldn’t stand to be at this stupid gala any longer. You left the building and waived down a taxi to take you back to the hotel.

You managed to keep it together until you were safely back in your room. You had a few missed calls from Chris, and a couple texts asking where you were, but you were too angry with him to reply. You knew you’d say something you’d regret. After all, who the hell did he think he was? You’d kept a lid on your feelings for him, you knew you weren’t his type and you’d done your best to make peace with that. But to have the man you loved not only overlook you, but to actively sabotage your chance with someone else…WHO THE FUCK DID HE THINK HE WAS.

You tried to reach to your back to unzip your dress, it felt too confining in the midst of your rage, but you couldn’t quite reach it. Chris had been the one to help you zip it up at the beginning of the evening. You remembered how he had stood so close to you as he slowly and carefully zipped you up, his other hand resting on the small of your back to keep the fabric still. It had flustered you at the time, feeling the heat radiating from his palms. You had slipped into a daydream that he might kiss the nape of your neck when he had finished, but you had no such luck. When he was done he simply patted your shoulder and declared “all set”.

Your phone rang again. God, why couldn’t he take the hint? You picked up your cell, ready to decline Chris’s call, but you saw it wasn’t his number. Probably a spam call, but you were curious, so you answered.

“Hello…,” you asked tentatively.

“You exited the gala rather abruptly; was Representative Ocasio-Cortez that insufferable?”

“Red, is that you?”

“It is, my dear. Are you busy?”

“Uh, not exactly.”

“Wonderful! What hotel are you staying at? I’d like to buy you a drink at the bar and continue our discussion. That is, of course, if you’d care to.”

You couldn’t help but smile at this, and you felt your heart quicken slightly. “Yeah, actually, I’d love that.”

After giving Red your hotel information, you refreshed yourself and, fifteen minutes later, made your way to the hotel bar. You were nervous, but why?

Red was already there. He rose from his seat when he saw you approaching. He crossed the room to greet you and embraced you like you had known each other for ages. It caught you off guard, but you quickly reciprocated. After a moment, he pulled away and regarded you at arm’s length. He smiled, “I’m so glad to see you again.” He turned to stand beside you and offered you his arm. You gently placed your hand in the crook of his elbow, and he escorted you back to his table.

You talked and laughed; he asked so many questions about you. Trying not to dominate the conversation, you asked about his life, but he only gave small stories or superficial details before deflecting to ask more about you. After a few drinks you could feel that you were, if not drunk, at least a little buzzed. But you were a cheerful drunk, and it seemed to amuse Red.

Unbeknownst to you, Chris had returned to the hotel. He had planned to order a drink from the bar, but stopped short of the door when he saw you laughing and drinking with him.

Chris’s jaw clenched. He wanted to drag you away from this man, this stranger that was paying you too much attention for his liking. But Chris was smart enough to know he would make a scene, that you’d be even angrier with him; and why did he even care? He told himself he was just looking out for you, but he knew it was just an excuse. Ever since you and Chris had first met, there had been an undercurrent of longing, a pull. But your lives were so different, he didn’t think you could possibly be happy in his world. The occasional events he brought you to often stressed you out and left you exhausted. So you weren’t compatible, he told himself, don’t even bother thinking about it. He dated, and he never sensed jealousy from you; he assumed that meant you had no interest in him. It wasn’t meant to be. And he had mostly come to terms with being ‘just friends’.

But now this. The longer he stared at the two of you, the way you touched the man’s arm when you spoke to him, the way the man placed his hand on yours… Chris needed to get away. He was getting too hot headed. He left and went to his room that neighbored yours.

“Oh god,” you exclaimed as you caught a glimpse of the time on Red’s watch. “I have an early flight, I really should be calling it a night…”

“A shame,” Red sighed. He stood up and offered you his hand to help you out of your chair. You gladly accepted, and thankfully so - you wobbled slightly as you rose. “Careful now,” he murmured.

Your face flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry, guess I stood up too fast…”

“Yes, most likely,” he placated, “but for my own peace of mind, will you allow me to escort you to your room?”

You nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”

Again, he offered his arm for you to steady on, and the two of you made your way to your dwelling.

“Well, this is my room…”

“I won’t intrude on you any longer, but thank you for humoring this old man.”

“Oh stop, you’re not old.”

He grinned at you. “You’re sweet, but not a skilled liar, my dear. Regardless, I’m glad to have gotten to know you this evening. I hope, in the future, we might do it again.”

“Yeah, I’d really like that.”

He smiled and embraced you. As he pulled away, he kissed your cheek.

“Oh! actually,” you began, “could I ask a weird favor of you before you go?”

He eyed you curiously for a moment before smiling and and saying, “Of course.”

“I can’t reach the zipper on the back of this dress, could you…I know it’s odd, but would you-“

“Ah,” he interjected, “fashion is always so cumbersome, especially when it’s crafted to adorn the more elegant sex.” He smiled warmly at you. “I’d be happy to help.”

There was something in his smile…in his eyes…like a hungry wolf that had been tasked with guarding the sheep. It sent a shiver through your body. It scared you a little, but excited you even more.

You opened the door to your room and walked in, Red following closely behind. You set your clutch on the bureau, and, as you kept your back to him, moved your hair in front of your shoulder so as to give him access to the zipper.

He confidently came up behind you, gently but firmly placing a hand on your hip as his other grasped the zipper and slowly pulled it downward. When it was halfway undone, he noticed the goosebumps forming on your skin.

He leaned in and murmured, “Are you cold, my dear?”  
Your breath hitched at his warm exhalation. “I’m okay…”

He smirked and continued pulling the zipper along, until it reached its base at the small of your back, barely above your ass. Despite his job being done, his left hand lingered on your hip while his right one traced an almost imperceptible path down the base of your spine before grasping at your other hip. Quick as it reached, he firmly pulled you a step back, closer to him. You could feel his warm breath on the nape of your neck as his lips ghosted the delicate skin…

There was a knock at your door. Red immediately pulled away and turned to eye the door suspiciously. You, on the other hand, were so caught off-guard that you audibly gasped. Red made his way to the door as you held your gown to your bosom, lest if fall down.

“Well, hello, Christopher,” you heard Red exclaim.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” It wasn’t really a question, he was pushing his way into the room as he asked it. Upon seeing you, he blurted, “Jesus Christ, (Y/N), where have you been?”

Your mind was blank, you were still caught up in the moment Chris had interrupted, unable to recall anything prior.

Red stepped forward, positioning himself between the two of you and addressed Chris, “Apologies, Christopher, I’m afraid this is my fault. I asked (Y/N) to share a few drinks with me and, well, I’m quite the talker! The poor thing didn’t have a chance to glance at her phone, let alone call you.”

Chris glared at Red. “Yeah, is your talking what undid her dress?”

There was silence. The insinuation that Red had been forcing himself on you insulted the man to his core, but he knew better than to act on the rage that pulsed through him.

You hated seeing Chris talk to Red this way, so you said, “Chris, I asked him to help me undo the zipper. I knew I couldn’t get it myself and-“

“I could’ve helped you,” he countered.

You were baffled for a moment. “What does it matter?” you asked in exasperation.

He knew you were right, but it didn’t stop the pangs he was feeling. “Forget it. We have an early flight tomorrow,” he turned to Red, “sorry to send you away, but we need to get up early. I’m sure you understand.”

Red sized Chris up for a moment before smiling. “Of course.” He turned his back to Chris and walked over to you. “Thank you for the marvelous evening, my dear; I’ll call upon you again sometime, if that’s alright.”

You nodded, happy that Chris hadn’t scared him off. “I’d like that.”

He embraced you and when he stepped back, he reached up and delicately cupped your face in his hands. You could see that this infuriated Chris, but you didn’t care. Red leaned in and kissed you fully. When he pulled away, you were breathless. You blinked up at him and a smile broke across your face.

He smiled happily back at you. “Goodnight, my dear. You have my number, call me if you need anything, and I do mean anything.” He turned to leave, nodded at Chris as he walked by, and exited the room.

Chris’s chest was heaving, his blood pressure was through the roof, and he wanted to go after Red. But he didn’t. He knew better. Instead, he looked at you, his face tense and questioning.

You blushed and looked away from from. “Well, I should go to bed.”

“What the hell was that?” he spat.

“Excuse me?” you turned back to face him.

“You don’t even know this fuckin’ guy, but you’re inviting him back to your room?”

Rage surged up into your chest and you sneered, “Awful rich coming from you. Tell me, do you even remember the name of that D.C. intern you fucked? Or the fact that she had a boyfriend?”

His jaws clenched and his eyes widened. You had never spoken to him like this, but, then again, he had never yelled at you either. He knew he should’ve expected you to fight back, you weren’t one to be walked over. Tired of holding this anger, he sighed and rubbed his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You hadn’t expected that.

He lowered his hands from his face and walked over to you, gently placing his hands on your shoulders. You looked at him cautiously. He continued, “I worry about you-“

“I’m not a child,” you interrupted.

He chuckled. “I know, I know…I guess- it’s not an excuse, but I feel very protective of you.”

His frank admission caught you by surprise, but you were grateful.

“Chris, I appreciate everything you do for me, but you gotta let me make my own choices. Even if it blows up in my face. You’re pretty much my best friend-“

You didn’t notice the way he winced at that dreaded word.

“-and, to me, that means, yeah, we look out for each other, but we still let the other make their choices. If they turn out real fuckin’ bad, then we help the other through it, but we don’t try to force one another to bend to our will.”

He smiled sadly at you. “You’re right. I”m sorry.” He pulled you into his chest and hugged you tightly, you reciprocated instantly, eager for the tension between the two of you to be gone. “I’ll let you get to bed, we have an early morning.” With that, he released you, and left your room.


End file.
